


This Year's Enemies

by AliceLost



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 23:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLost/pseuds/AliceLost
Summary: "Enemies" takes a different turn after Faith discovers she's been played, and she and Buffy trade places earlier than expected.





	1. Enemies

“Second best.”

Faith stopped, her brain registering panic and horror before she'd even processed the words. That tone of voice. Flat, emotionless, full of guilt and brooding and the weight of the world. Wrong.

She'd only spent a day with Angelus but she recognized him for what he was, theatrical and eager for any opportunity to hurt someone. Most people who met the Mayor, the real Mayor, not that fake sunny persona he showed the public, were silenced by the aura of menace and power that radiated from him. He could be tittering over apple pie or his golf swing, but there was no mistaking that he was always the most powerful one in the room, and provoking him...well, one cautioning frown from him was usually enough to ensure that nobody felt like finding out what happened if he was provoked. She loved that about him. He wasn't afraid of anything. He made her feel like she didn't have to be either. Except, perhaps, of him.

And Angelus had walked right into his private office, told him to call _him_ master, and impaled him with his own letter opener. That took incredible stupidity or monumental balls, but she understood the smarts behind his suicidal actions. Angelus was always acting like the toughest one in the room, because nobody respected you unless they knew you were stronger than them. You had to make sure they knew it, and you had to keep reminding them, over and over and over. That was the only way to know that they weren't going to turn on you. Even when he deferred to the Mayor, he did it with a swagger and a cocky grin.

Which meant that tone of voice was completely wrong on him. It was bland. Angelus was never bland. Angel was bland. Time seemed to slow down as Faith turned to look at him. His face was human, but he wasn't smiling, or taunting her, just starting with brooding intensity. She searched his expression, desperately looking for a sign, any clue that he was toying with her, that this was part of his game. But there was no glee in it, just sadness and disappointment. Wherever Angelus had been a moment ago, there was no trace of him left behind now.

“Graduation Day. You think we missed anything?” From behind her, Buffy spoke directly to Angel.

This wasn't right. This wasn't fair! She had watched the spell happen herself, she had fought with Angelus, kissed him, felt his joy at being in the company of another as powerful as himself. She hadn't ever expected that they'd be able to keep him around; all Angelus would ever truly want was to be the most powerful one in the room, no matter what he had to do to get there, and he'd have no respect for the Mayor's plans. But she had been so looking forward to enjoying his company before she'd have to stake him. Someone who understood her, who respected her strength, who knew what she was and didn't judge her for it. Like the Mayor. Like Buffy had been supposed to be.

“I think we know everything she knows.” Angel finally grinned, and it was wrong, all wrong. He was smug, proud of having been cleverer than her, and yet it still didn't entirely hide the pity in his eyes, like he felt sorry for her for being such an idiot. They had set this up, they had set all of this up, all so Buffy could keep feeding her queen-of-the-world superiority complex. _She_ always had to make herself out as the most powerful one in the room, as if the fact that life had just given her money and a home and a pack of groupies, and a mother and a Watcher who weren't dead, or evil, or both, made her better than Faith, and she wasn't even embarrassed to admit it.

“May I say something? Psyche.” Buffy released her arms from the bindings Angel had pretended to chain shut and waggled her fingers like a playground taunt, contempt evident on her face.

This wasn't fair! For one goddamn minute, she had been supposed to be the power in town that she was meant to be. She had spent all week fantasizing about this moment, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since they left City Hall. What she was going to do to her. Buffy, tied in chains, gazing at Faith through those intense green eyes, finally looking at her with something other than contempt or frustration. Buffy, forced to her knees, head bowed, hair plastered to her face with sweat and tears, begging as she said Faith's name. Buffy, shallow cuts across her delicate pale skin, exposed and vulnerable as her outfit pooled in scraps around her feet. Buffy, overwhelmed and gasping, pleading for it to stop, looking up at Faith as she admitted that she'd been wrong, that she'd been terrible to her, that she'd treated her unfairly, that she had never been better than her. Buffy, curled on Angel's bed, naked and shivering and whimpering...

Instead, here she was, Buffy and Angel laughing at her, the rest of the Scoobies about to find out about her betrayal if they hadn't already, and the Mayor...Faith got nervous thinking about it. She hadn't been with the Mayor long, not long enough to have let him down yet, but certainly long enough for him to have made dark threats about what happened to those who did. If she went back to him now, if he found out that she'd told his archenemies everything she knew about his plans for the Ascension...

Faith snapped. Every time she found a new home, Buffy Summers came along and found a way to take it away from her. Gwendoline, Giles, the Scoobies, the Mayor, Angelus, everything she'd ever expressed interest in since she'd arrived in Sunnydale. “You played me. You played me!” she yelled with a roar, crossing the distance between her and Angel before he could react and throwing him across the room.

She barely noticed the far doors slamming open or the assembled group that rushed in brandishing crosses and stakes at him. She was already in motion towards Buffy, throwing punches and kicks with a ferocity the other Slayer wasn't entirely prepared to counter. Buffy blocked the first few strikes aimed at her, then took two solid punches to the face, rolling backwards as they came to bring herself up next to the low table littered with scalpels and knives. She snatched the first weapon her fingers touched and lunged back at Faith, stabbing and slashing as Faith leapt over her attacks and kept coming. The blade in her own hand came down on Buffy's throat as she dropped to one knee, pressing herself against the smaller Slayer with a wild look in her eyes, not entirely sure what to do with her momentum. She had planned to have Buffy at her mercy, but not like this, not quick and fatal and fleeting. She belatedly registered the feeling of cold steel against her own neck, and glanced down to see that Buffy held a knife on her in a mirror of her own posture. Was that why she had hesitated? Had that happened because she had hesitated? 

There was a long moment of silence, a mere couple of seconds, but to a Slayer running high on adrenaline it felt like a lifetime. She could see the hesitation in Buffy's eyes, feel the warmth of her breath on her face, hear her heart pounding even over her own. The knife dug gently into the skin of her neck but did not go further. She gave a playful smirk. “What are you going to do, B? Kill me...you become me. You're not ready for that.” She suddenly dipped her free hand into her back pocket, looping the device there around her fingers as she batted Buffy's knife arm away with her own, acting on instinct and not conscious thought. Her hand snaked its way into the the hair behind Buffy's head and she pulled her in close for a kiss, quick and passionate, before she grabbed Buffy's free hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing tight as the device that was wrapped around her fingers glowed softly. “Yet.”


	2. Sunny Day

It had been a few days ago when Faith had walked into the Mayor's office as his three o'clock shuffled out past her. An unassuming older gentleman, shorter than her, with oversized spectacles and a dopey smile that touched every part of his face except his eyes, his cordial nod and cheery greeting of “Young lady” as he walked past did nothing to quiet her instincts. _Demon._ Not that she minded, of course. The boss had reason to be dealing with all types, but it was still good for her to keep her wits about her and her intuition honed. She never knew when one of the nasties that came and went might mistake her for a member of staff that could be safely snacked on.

Inside, the Mayor was leaning back in his chair with a dopey grin that did reach his eyes, playing with something in his hand that looked like a spinning children's toy. “Faith! Just the girl I was hoping to see. Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink? Orange juice, diet soda?” She shook her head as she dropped into one of his office chairs, leaning back automatically to put her feet up on his desk before she thought better of it and swivelled mid-motion, draping her legs over one arm of the chair instead. He shook his head as he stood up, placing his toy on his desk and walking over to a side cabinet where there stood a pitcher of orange juice and four meticulously clean glasses. “Really Faith, didn't your mother ever teach you how to sit like a proper young lady? Slovenliness is not an attractive feature.”

“My mom didn't really teach me much of anything. I kinda had to fill in the blanks myself, guess I never got to sitting prettily.” She shrugged casually and rolled her shoulders, the way she did when she had to convince someone she didn't care what they were talking about. It bugged her a little that he was always talking about family like it was something everyone had good experiences with. It clearly meant a lot to him, but she didn't really understand why, and she didn't like being forced to admit that she didn't get it.

Usually talking about her childhood made people get all condescending, talking down to her with _“Oh, I'm so sorry”_ and _“You poor thing, how awful”_ and other expressions of pity like she was a helpless child. She had _never_ been a helpless child. But him, he never showed her pity. He knew some of the things she'd been through, and he didn't particularly care. Not really, not beneath his jovial exterior. He only valued her for what she could do for him. She liked that, it made her feel strong; this wasn't charity, like Joyce feeding the poor hungry stray because she had nowhere to go at Christmas, this was respect for her power, and need. The Mayor was invulnerable, he had been planning for a hundred years, he was going to turn into a demon that would wipe this town off the map, and he _needed_ her.

“Well, that's a gosh darn shame is what that is. You're a beautiful young woman, Faith, and you ought to treat yourself with more respect. Now, let's fill you up with some of that vitamin C you don't get enough of.” He walked around his desk and placed a glass of orange juice on the edge of it next to her, then aimed a significant look at her boots until she rolled her eyes and slid them onto the floor. Satisfied, he picked up the little toy and circled his desk again, tapping the intercom on his phone that patched through to his secretary. “Carol, cancel my 3:30, please. Pardon?” The voice on the other end was hard to hear from where Faith was sitting. “Oh, he is, is he? Yes, I suppose he would be, middle of the day and all that. Well you go ahead and send him right on up then, I'll see him at once.”

Faith shifted forward, curious. The boss looked up at her, beaming. “Excellent timing, Faith. This fellow on his way up just now was supposed to take care of your little friend with the computer. Instead, he and his companions decided to go on a feeding frenzy at the Bronze, of which he is now the only surviving member.” He shook his head with paternal disappointment as he walked to the blinds and started closing them. “I would appreciate it if you would rectify that incongruence.”

“Sure, or I could just kill him for you.” She didn't always understand the fancy words the Mayor used, what with having dropped out of school so early and everything, but she appreciated that it never mattered. She could always tell when he wanted her to do violence for him, that was a language they both spoke clearly, and he always seemed to find it charming when she didn't know a word. Sure enough, there he was, standing by the closed blinds, grin on his face. He seemed to so easily forget that her life had been so different from his, no marriage, no family, no hundred years of reading books to learn words like “liaisons” and “ incongruence”, but every time she reminded him, he _appreciated_ the differences. After all, he might be invulnerable and run the town, but she couldn't imagine him dusting even one vamp on his own. That was why he had her. Why he _needed_ her.

He let out one of his high pitched, merry cackles at her enthusiasm. “Well that sounds just as good to me. I do so hate being disappointed by people I'm relying on.” The mirth never left his face, but the message behind his eyes wasn't lost on her. He was relying on her. She would never disappoint him.

He slid open one of the drawers of his desk and gestured towards it. Inside was an array of pencils, all neatly sharpened and arranged by grade and length, escalating in size up to several wooden stakes, just as meticulously organized. She smiled at his habits, picked the middle stake just to watch the others shift slightly with the motion, and of course he immediately straightened them perfectly, giving her an ever so mild look of disapproval for messing up his system. She tossed the stake in her hands casually, then slipped it into her jacket pocket. It was a bit too perfect for her, the carefully whittled wood had been smoothed and polished and felt alien in her hands. She preferred something with a little more texture to it.

“Boss.” A very nervous looking vampire stepped in through the open door, the expression on his face making it clear that he wanted to burst into excuses but knew that giving them before they were asked for wouldn't help. Faith took a big step back towards the wall, giving him space to approach the desk.

“Yes, come in, shut the door. You're very punctual, I appreciate that. Punctuality is a mark of self-discipline. And self-discipline is a mark of respect.” She wasn't sure if the boss had been hoping to get some details from this one first or not, but his eyes flicked up to meet hers, and she figured that was enough of a signal. She weighed the idea of drawing the smooth, unnatural feeling stake and stabbing this guy in the back, but that seemed like very little fun, so instead she simply reached over to the blinds and yanked them open.

The vampire had been unable to hold his excuses any longer, babbling “Boss, we _tried_ to take her down, but we didn't know what we were dealing with! She's a-” and then the sunlight flooded back into the room and his clothes burst into flames. He screeched and threw himself away from the deadly rays, trying to roll himself out in a shady corner of the carpet, but Faith was on him in an instant, picking him up with one hand and throwing him against the window. In full demon face, he unleashed a savage snarl and flung himself at her fangs first, combusting into a cloud of dust halfway there that settled slowly around her. She beamed at the boss and pulled out his stake, flipped it around in her hand to toss it to him, then caught herself and placed it gently on his desk instead. 

The Mayor chuckled, shaking his head in amazement as he pulled out a wet wipe and wiped the dust from the stake before filing it neatly away again in his drawer. “What a little spitfire you are! The ingenuity, the creativity. I can tell I'm always going to be impressed with you.”

Faith mirrored his grin as she sat herself down in her chair again. “So, what was it you were all excited to show me?” She nodded her head at the toy on the desk. 

He glanced down at it. “Oh, this little gizmo? Well, you're right that this is a fascinating little device. From a very interesting fellow who's provided me with lots of nifty little trinkets over the years.” _“How many years?”_ she wondered, but did not ask. “But it wasn't what I wanted to discuss with you today.”

“What does it do?” She knew she shouldn't interrupt him, but he did have a tendency sometimes to go on, and he couldn't possibly expect to be able to say “fascinating”, “interesting' and “nifty” in one breath without her wanting to hear more. She wondered what it felt like to play with, as she had seen him do earlier, and before she realized it she had it in her hands and was fiddling with it. It had more points of articulation than she expected, it fit neatly over three fingers, and it was oddly satisfying to fidget with. He reached out to stop her from taking it, but her Slayer speed was far faster than his reflexes, and he touched empty desk. She didn't glance up to check if there was reproach in his eyes, not wanting to see it.

“Just be careful with that, Faith. If you don't know what you're doing, you could end up in somebody else's body.” Then she looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He chuckled. “That's what it does. Breaks down someone's essence, their consciousness, their aura, whatever you want to call it, and exchanges it with another person's. All you have to be doing is holding hands, and hey presto, bob's your uncle. Whole new outlook on life.”

“I could trade places with anybody I touched?” Faith's mind reeled at the possibilities of that. If she traded places with one of the Scoobies, the amount of damage she could wreck on them without them ever knowing it was her...she imagined taking over Willow's mind, sadly announcing to the gang that she'd hacked the Mayor's files and found nothing useful, holding Buffy's hand as they cried together about how there was nothing more they could do to stop him. That was something Buffy and Willow would do together, right? Or she could trade places with little miss holier-than-thou herself and sit at the popular table with her adoring friends, her Watcher _and_ her ex-Watcher, because of course she had two, talking about last night's kills while everyone paid her rapt attention.

She imagined what it would feel like to be inside Buffy's body, tucking her long blonde hair shyly behind her ear, staring in the mirror making faces at herself, maybe just having stepped out of the shower. She lingered on that mental picture, Buffy's body spread out before her gaze, responding to her commands, sliding her hands up and down over her soft skin...it would be perfect. She hated Buffy. There were no other words to describe her feelings. Only hate. It would feel so good to take everything away from her, take _her_ , leave her with nothing like she left Faith. She could help the Mayor fulfill his plans, and she could finally get some respect from the saps she'd be taking for a ride while she was doing it. It would be perfect.

“Anyone you wanted. But of course, they would be trading places with you, too. Which is why I still need to decide how best to use it. Don't want one of your Slayer pals running around in your body causing problems, now do we?” He giggled darkly. “That, and the fact that Doc warned me that devices like that have an unfortunate habit of breaking after they're used once. You want to be mighty careful who you sign up to be as your second chance if you're going to be stuck that way forever. Like making a face when the wind blows the wrong way. You know, I've never asked him what he got his doctorate in.” 

Faith continued to fiddle with it as he continued on with the real meeting, a conversation about other ways to distract Buffy and her gang in the weeks leading up to graduation day, that involved bringing Angelus back. She had to admit that sounded like fun, especially if she correctly understood just what it was that made Angel lose his soul, but she couldn't keep her mind off the magical item she held in her hand, and the possibilities it represented. Turning into Buffy, and then stabbing every single one of her do-gooders before they could stop her. Showing up in the Mayor's office in B's body, just to see the expression on his face. Going back to B's house and eating dinner with her mom, without being stared at from the kitchen like an exotic animal when they thought she wasn't paying attention. Feeling what it feels like to slay in B's body, how the adrenaline rush is different, finding out just how completely she had been bullshitting Faith about the desire to feast and fuck after a night's killing. Coming home and stripping down and sliding under the covers, not rough scratchy motel sheets, but soft, silky sheets over B's sensitive flesh...

She belatedly realized that he had stopped talking. “Yeah, right boss, sounds good. I'm on it.” She didn't know what she had just missed, but he didn't have the face he wore when he was expecting her to do violence, so she figured she could catch up in their next chat together. Hurriedly, she slipped out of the chair and made for the door, trying her best to keep casual.

“Ahem, Faith. Aren't we forgetting something?” He looked at her expectantly. She looked down, guiltily, at the gadget still attached to her hand.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry boss.” She stopped, but made no motion to return it. A moment passed, with increasing confusion about her unwillingness to put it back on the desk. “I just...really like the feel of it, I guess.” She couldn't think of anything else to add that didn't sound stupid.

“Well, I'm glad you like it. I'll make sure to let you know when I decide to let you play with it again.” He held out his hand expectantly, his manner that of a stern father hoping to impart a life lesson. She still didn't move.

“Do you think I could, uh, hang on to it for a bit?” She hastily tripped over her words to amend her statement when she saw his scowl. “I promise I'm not thinking of using it for anything! I just figure if you're not using it it's as safe with me as it is anywhere else, right? And I am risking my neck going behind everybody's back like this, Wes threw me in a van and nearly drove me back to England last time he found out I lied to them, and it would be nice to know I had some way of still being useful, you know, if they tried to do that again. It's not like Wes could do much damage in my body if he's already in chains and halfway across the world, right?” She hated how much like a little girl she sounded there at the end, vulnerable and afraid, but she was just acting, right? Playing it sweet so the boss would want to give her a present. That was the only time she felt that way, when she wanted something from someone, they weren't real feelings.

He studied her face for a long minute, and she wasn't sure if he was seeing the concern she was trying to project there, or something else. Then he lowered his arm with a little sigh and a tutting sound. “I spoil you too much, Faith. I really shouldn't, but I just can't help myself. I care about you too much. You're my little girl.” There was real love and affection in his eyes as he smiled at her. “I will expect you to get Angel into bed with you soon, though, so we can take his soul from him as quickly as possible. Sleeping with him won't be enough, it'll have to be the best gosh darn night of his life, but I know if anyone can manage that it's my Faith. Go ahead and keep that gadget for now, then, but don't go trying to use it on anybody, you hear? Not unless you're entirely out of options, and think carefully about it even then.” 

“Thanks, boss, you're the best.” Her tongue tripped briefly over the feeling of relief that came out with the words, but that was just the fear she'd been pretending to feel starting to dissipate. By the time she reached the lobby, she wouldn't be feeling it at all.

World's best actor.


	3. Who Are You?

The effect was less impressive and also more disorienting than she had anticipated. The air shimmered around them for a moment while their hands glowed with a soft light, everything went briefly white, and then suddenly she was looking at herself like staring into a mirror, except then her face made an expression she wasn't making and it all felt horribly wrong, like she was going mad and had lost total control of her body, and so she lashed out and connected her fist with the face that was hers. Hard. The head that she recognized as her own bounced off the edge of the table beside them, and then hit the stone floor with a crack. She winced before she remembered that it wasn't her head. Not anymore. 

She looked down at her hand, the experience also jarring with the feeling of subtle wrongness. Her fingers were thinner, more delicate, although they responded to her thoughts and wiggled when she told them to. Her arms were smaller, everything was smaller, and the fluffy top she was now wearing was strange, not what she was used to feeling on her skin. She knelt there for a moment, transfixed on the image of her own unconscious body lying on the floor in front of her. Then suddenly there was an arm on her, Red kneeling beside her, too close, and her instincts screamed to shrug her off, to punch her in the face, to wrap her fingers around her scrawny little neck and just-

“You okay?” Red was peering at her with unabashed concern, and she was surprised to realize that she hadn't moved at all. She was still adjusting to being in Buffy's body, still catching up on what had just happened. In her own skin she'd have been halfway across the room by now, pacing or punching or...something. This sudden feeling of disconnectedness was unsettling, like Buffy could just sit here, endlessly, without needing to do anything. It felt like being dead.

She glanced up at the crowd, now really taking them in for the first time. Angel stood there, worry and guilt written all over his features. Xander, Oz, Cordelia and Wesley all hovered around him, crosses and stakes in various positions of indecision, all looking to her for guidance. The amount of concern in the room was sickening. She wanted to get away, run out the door, punch them in the face, throw a biting insult, anything to get them to stop looking at her like that. She realized she still hadn't shrugged Red's hand off her arm.

Buffy. She had to play it like Buffy. She _was_ Buffy, now, but not if she screwed it all up in the first two minutes. Had to be soft and worried with the weight of the world and concerned for them like she was better than them. “Angel. Y'all right?” The voice that came from her throat was startling, soft and high and thin, like she was about to start crying. It made it easy to sound like she cared. “It's okay, gang, he's not evil.” She had to talk in short sentences, the sounds out of her mouth were so distracting. She looked back again to where she-, to where Faith lay, unconscious but already stirring. That had to be taken care of quickly. “But she is. Evil. She's been lying to us. This whole time. Working with the Mayor. Chains?”

Angel stepped past the rest of the Scoobies, quickly removed the chains he had pretended to tie Buffy in before, and swiftly wrapped them around her-, around Faith's wrists again, this time making sure they were secure. Wes approached as he did so, automatically snooty and failing miserably to project an aura of command. 

“Thank you, Angel, I'll take it from here. She's the Council's responsibility now.” He caught himself at Angel's scowl, rapidly remembering the tenuous situation his previous screw up put him in. “Uh, that is to say, I would appreciate it, if you were to assist me. In securing her, for England. Passage. Passage back to England.”

Angel was on his feet and in Wes's face in an instant, rage and frustration and guilt all painted on his face. “If you've forgotten, it was you trying to do that last time that made this situation worse. I was getting through to her! I could have helped her, before you made sure that she'll never trust any one of us again.” What the fuck? What the hell was Angel doing, still trying to rehabilitate her, when he needed to be getting her into a truck and on a plane to England, pronto. He didn't actually care about her, that was all part of his tortured sensitive soul routine, reassuring Buffy that she was better than the poor broken Slayer who killed humans. 

Will squeezed her arm, looking to her for reassurance, and when Buffy didn't say anything, she chimed in. “Well I think she's had her chance, Angel. She came here to torture Buffy!” Her eyes passed over the array of surgical tools on the table as if seeing them for the first time, then very quickly darted away. “I know you feel sorry for her, because of you...you know...but she has her soul! This is good Faith, and she is so very much not with the good. What are you going to do, tie her up and feel sorry for her until she goes all loony-bin psycho again when she remembers she enjoys murdering people?”

There was real venom in Will's voice, and she tightened her grip Buffy's arm protectively, until she wriggled free of the uncomfortable touch. Will sent a quick apologetic glance her way and dropped her arms immediately, as if she'd just squeezed a bruise. Red had never been a fan of Faith, she knew, but it was still surprising to hear how frankly people talked about her when they thought she wasn't listening. 

Speaking of which, she was going to be listening again in a moment, because she could see Faith recovering from the blow, struggling against the chains and the same disorientation from the transfer, probably heightened because she had no context for what had happened. “Re-, Will's right,” she piped up, hoping to end this conversation before Faith regained herself enough to start talking, “we can't help her any more. We have to, to turn her over to the Council. Quickly. They'll handle her better than we can, now.”

Angel nodded reluctantly, settling back into his usual brooding expression. On the floor, Faith looked up at Buffy, confusion and horror on her face as she tugged against her restraints. She opened her mouth to speak, and Faith lashed out with her boot.  
No, not Faith. Buffy. She was Buffy now. Buffy Summers: Slayer, high school student, perfect daughter, perfect everything. The world owed her a debt and she was finally going to get to collect, and it was all going to be on Buffy's tab. Buffy Summers.

Buffy lashed out with her boot, connecting with Faith's head and dropping her back to the floor. She kicked a second time, and Faith went out. She kicked again, with more anger, and she wasn't sure when she was planning on stopping when Angel grabbed her and pulled her away, surprisingly gently. She let out a little scream of rage and brought her foot down one more time, this time on the magical device that now lay on the ground. There was a tiny spark as it broke into pieces and she could feel what energy had been left in it dissipate. There was no going back, she wasn't going to go back, she wasn't going to let them lock her away in a cage like they wanted to, Buffy, the real Buffy, could suffer in her place. It was only fair, after everything she'd put her through, after all her airs and scorn and high-and-mightiness, feeling what life was like when everything wasn't handed to you on a perfect little plate.

No, not Buffy. Faith. _She_ was Buffy now. The girl unconscious on the floor in front of her, that was Faith now. Faith was a bad girl, a rebel, a runaway, a killer, a psychopath. Faith was going to get locked away somewhere dark and cold and miserable, and pay for everything she'd done, all the people she'd hurt. And Buffy was going to go on living her carefree, perfect life, never thinking about Faith or anyone like her ever again, because people like that didn't belong in her perfect world.

She felt fingers running through her hair, and realized that Angel was stroking it, holding her close to his chest and murmuring in her ear. “Whoa, easy, it's okay Buffy, it's okay. Everything's over now.” How had he managed to get so close before she realized it? Buffy was clearly far more used to being hugged than Faith was. And when had he gotten so tall? Oh, right, everybody was taller now. She twisted her neck away, shrugging out of Angel's embrace before stopping.

“I'm sorry. That was, that was wrong. I just thought about how much she wants to hurt everybody and, I can't stand it. She needs to be locked up somewhere. She deserves to be locked up.” She was pleased with her imitation of Buffy, and the self-righteousness in her voice, but when she looked at Angel his eyes were still full of concern.

“I'll help Wesley with her. Are you okay?” The puppy dog look in his eyes was awful, she had liked Angelus so much better.

“I...I will be. I just need to know that Faith is secure, that she's not going to hurt anybody else. She's probably still got other tricks up her sleeve. To fool us into letting her go.” She was getting a little more comfortable with her voice now. She looked back at Angel, and that was all she had to do. Boy was _so_ whipped.

“Don't worry, she's not as good an actor as she thinks. We'll make sure she's not going anywhere.” He bent down and scooped up the unconscious Faith in his arms. “Wes, do you still have that van you put her in last time you tried this?”

“Yes, I have access to it. I'll have to notify the Council about sending another extraction team, it may take a day or two for them to arrive, but we can keep her there. It's a secure location.” Wes, as always, tried and failed for a note of genuine authority in his voice.

“Yeah, you proved that already.” Angel brushed past the Watcher and out the door, and Wes hurried after him. A heavy moment of silence sat between the rest of the Scoobies as they watched it close behind them.

Cordelia broke the sombre quiet with a peppy tone. “So, Angel's not evil, that's a 'Yay', right?”


	4. Waking Up

There was a flash of light, and then suddenly she was looking at herself, like staring in a mirror. Her brow furrowed in confusion and disorientation, but her reflection didn't copy it. It looked angry. She felt her senses swim for a moment as she struggled to adjust to a variety of new sensations, and then there was an impact against her temple and she felt herself fading again.

When she came to for the second time, it was to the sensation of manacles being clasped around her wrists. Again. She blinked past the pounding headache and looked up at who was restraining her. Angel. Angelus? She tugged at the chains, and this time her arms did not come free. He wasn't pretending any more. He was actually tying her up. With Faith. With that array of torture implements. She tried to fight past the haze that was clouding her thinking. Why would he do that? How could he do that?

Had Giles' sorcerer been double-crossing them? This whole time, had this truly been Angelus, toying with her because he knew she thought it was Angel? Panic overwhelmed her at the idea of him gone, again, and of Faith and Angelus together, playing out the same scene as their earlier charade, but this time without the knowledge that she was in control. That she could slip her wrists free and fight off Faith even if something happened before Angel could stop it. What would she do if Faith actually got her wish? To cut her, to brutalize and torment her and then turn her over to Angelus...her panic response was a frenzy, twisting this way and that against the manacles, getting nowhere as fear overcame her.

She'd faced dangerous situations before, been vulnerable and outmatched, hell she'd even died once. She'd lived through some truly terrifying encounters, and she went out every night with the knowledge that one day she wasn't going to survive one of them. And yet, never before had she felt panic with this much intensity. The fear, the anger, the rawness of her emotions were utterly overpowering, as though they belonged to someone else entirely. She wanted to scream, to fight, to run, but the heavy iron around her wrists didn't let her do anything but squirm.

What was happening to her? That flash of light, Faith had grabbed her, just before it had happened. This must be something she had done. A magical attack on her senses, to weaken her, so that she could tie her up. So that Angel could tie her up. Maybe Faith had used something similar on Angel? Maybe he wasn't gone, maybe he still had his soul, just confused, or being controlled by her. That would be better. That would mean she only had to beat Faith to stop this, whatever it was.

And then she looked up and saw her own body staring down at her. Willow stood next to it, looking down at her with vile contempt. Buffy flinched without understanding. Above her stood Angel, tense and grim, and talking with...her? Then she heard it, her own voice, familiar but different, as if she was hearing it outside her own head. She was talking about turning someone over to the Council. Her? 

Buffy wanted to scream from confusion. She had been so close, so close to having Faith in custody, to figuring out how to stop the Mayor, to ending the painful theatre with Angel. And now nothing made sense, and in an instant everyone seemed to have turned against her, treating her with the same hatred and disregard Faith and Angel had been showing minutes ago. She opened her mouth to cry for help when Buffy, the other Buffy, the one standing over her looking down with cold, hard eyes, snapped out her boot and connected with her head. Buffy felt her head connect with the stone and for one second everything swam in and out of focus. Then there was another impact and everything went dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She came around again to the sensation of a needle jabbed inexpertly into her arm. She thrashed on instinct, but she was still held down by heavy chains, and her body felt sluggish and slow to react. It was a dimly lit room, and shapes swam before her vision for a moment, before resolving into the form of Wesley, kneeling above her. He withdrew an empty syringe from her arm, then noticed that she was awake and leapt back as though he had touched a hot iron.

“You're awake.” It came out as a yelp, which he tried to cover by clearing his throat and smoothing out his tie. “It won't do you any good to struggle, you may find you don't have all of your strength back at the moment.”

Buffy responded by struggling as much as she could. Her mouth was dry and cottony, her limbs felt unusually heavy and her head was absolutely killing her. The chains clinked softly as she jostled them.

“Wesley,” she croaked, alarmed at how dry her throat felt, “I-”

“Now, Faith,” he interrupted her, looking at her sternly before taking two large steps backwards to press himself into the far corner of the tiny space, “it is my duty as your Watcher to inform you that you are hereby being remanded into the custody of the Watcher's Council of Britain, where you will accept the judgement of the disciplinary committee.”

Faith? She jerked at her chains again, and her clothes shifted differently under her as she moved. Tight and leather and uncomfortably flattering. Faith's clothes. Memories of the evening flooding back to her, of Angel, in full vamp face, leaning in to kiss Faith hungrily. Of Faith, giddy with the prospect of cutting her open. That sudden flash of white. And then, before she blacked out...Buffy, staring down at herself with hate. Faith, wearing Buffy's body.

My God, was there truly nothing Faith didn't want to take from her? Her slaying, her friends, her Watcher, her boyfriend, and now her entire life?

“Furthermore, you should be aware that there will be no more tricks, Faith. I allowed you to get the better of me last time we found ourselves in this situation, but it won't happen again.”

“Wesley, I'm not Faith! She's taken my body, you have to let me go, I have to stop her-” She broke off into coughing. Wesley regarded her for a moment with confusion and concern, before catching himself and shaking his head.

“It's no good, Faith. You can play whatever games you like, but you will have to answer for the things you've done.” He opened the door to the tiny room and backed further outside.

“I'm Buffy! I'm not Faith, I'm Buffy. She has my body, you have to stop her-” The heavy steel door swung shut on her and she was left alone in the dark. 

She was in the back of a van, probably the same van Wesley had used last time he'd tried to abduct Faith. He was going to drive her onto a boat, or a plane, and she'd go to England to answer for Faith's crimes while Faith did God knows what to her family and friends...Buffy stopped thrashing for a moment and felt a tear slip down her cheek. She'd known that Faith was crazy, but she truly hadn't understood how much rage she had in her. 

She thought about their wild night out before the accident. How good it had felt to be with someone else who understood what it meant to be the Slayer. That was what Willow didn't understand. She resented Faith for breaking the rules, for making mistakes, but she didn't know how close to it Buffy was. How easy it would have been for her to end up going down that same path.

She lashed out again with force, slamming the wall loudly and yanking her chains to their limit. Anger seemed to come more quickly to her in Faith's body. It made it harder to concentrate on one thought and make a plan, but she fought against it. Wesley, she had to get him back in here, if she could convince him that she was Buffy, get him to call Giles, tell him things only Buffy would know. 

But he wouldn't listen. Wesley wasn't exactly perspective guy when she was Buffy, and he had every reason to disregard anything she said as Faith. Plus, did she even know anything that only the two of them knew? She might be forced to get herself out of this situation the Faith way.


	5. Masks

The Scooby gang piled back into Oz's van to drive back to the library and update Giles on events. It was tempting to just get out and walk, but that's not what Buffy would do. She _was_ Buffy, now. Buffy would ride with her friends and celebrate how clever she was and how successfully they had tricked Faith. So that's what she would do.

“Wow, I can't believe she fell for it so easily. What a sucker, huh?” She brushed against Red casually, but the young witch just looked hurt.

“Yeah, suckers. That's what we all are.” Xander said snippily, nursing the bruise from where Angel had laid him out a few hours ago. “I'm so glad my face was able to help with that.”

“You could have told us something, Buffy. When Xander found us...I was so worried about you. We all were.” Willow's voice quavered, and there was a strange expression on her face, a mixture of sadness and anger. 

“Actually, I just figured you were already dead.” Cordelia added matter-of-factly. 

So Buffy hadn't told them about her little charade. That tracked, she didn't trust the Scoobies not to mess up her perfect plan. But she was Buffy, give them five minutes and they'd remember how much they loved her and they'd forgive her and everything would be sunshine and roses again. It wasn't ever like actions had consequences when you were Buffy Summers.

“Yeah, well, I just didn't want you guys getting in the way. Faith is dangerous.” 

“Oh, really. I hadn't noticed. Did you also not want my face getting in the way?” Xander gestured at the purple mark around his eye.

“No, Buffy, I understand. Faith, way dangerous.” Willow's eyes lit with fire when she mentioned Faith. “I was on the 'Faith is crazy' train a few stops before you were, remember? I just think that sometimes, not knowing a thing can be more dangerous than knowing it. You know?” 

“Yeah, I gotta say Buff, I'm glad you're finally on our side about the whole Faith thing. I know you've been trying to convince yourself that she isn't a psycho homicidal lunatic, but as the founding member of the 'Faith tried to kill me' club, I was getting a little tired of all the excuses.” Xander said bitterly.

“Xander!” Willow scolded in a slightly panicky tone.

“What, Will? It's true. Nobody listened to me when I said that Angel was dangerous, until he...” he trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish that thought.

“Oh, you mean until he killed Giles' girlfriend, tortured him, and tried to kill Buffy and end the world?” Cordelia finished helpfully. The rest of the group scowled at her in unison. “What?”

 _Those_ were some details she hadn't been told before. She knew that Angel had lost his soul and done some bad stuff, but everyone had been pointedly vague on the details. No wonder everyone was nervous around Angel these days.

“I'm just saying that your judgment hasn't always been the best around people you clearly have...some kind of feelings for, and I know you and Faith were close, and I'm glad you agree with us that she's dangerous. And I'm also kind of saying I wish you'd come to that conclusion before Angel broke my face.”

Now what was _that_ supposed to mean?

“It's okay, Buffy, nobody's mad at you.” Willow's voice became slightly more frantic. “We just don't want to see you get hurt any more.”

“Yeah. You're right, I should have told you guys. My bad.” She lapsed into silence, hoping that the conversation was over, but neither Willow nor Xander seemed entirely happy with it. Were her friends always this annoying?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the library, the shaman who had been supposed to be working for the Mayor was talking with Giles like they were old friends. Her instincts kicked in and she flew across the room before anyone could stop her, clearing the railing in one leap and snapping the traitorous bastard's neck. She spun to backhand Giles, and then-

No, she was still standing in the entrance to the library, fingers balled into fists but otherwise unmoving. Buffy's reflexes were so unbelievably _sluggish_. How had the girl survived this long? It was like everything she did was on a two second delay. She hated it.

Taking another look at the sorcerer, she thought the better of attacking him here. The damage had already been done, and anything she did now would ruin her ability to get out of this unnoticed. He was already beginning to back into the shadows of the library and disappear. Neat trick.

“Buffy, are you alright?” Giles came down the stairs with a look of concern on his face, mixed with something else she couldn't quite place, and at first she wasn't sure how to react. Normally, she hated that look, but something about the way Giles carried himself in this moment made it feel less condescending, so she just nodded and sat down.

Giles paused for a moment, examining her features, but decided not to press the issue. “Good. Well, I just got off the telephone with Wesley, and he filled me in on the most salient points. I'm so sorry that things went as far as they did.”

“Yeah, well, that's Faith, right? What a nutjob.” Buffy shrugged, avoiding Giles' curious gaze. Xander and Willow both nodded, but Giles just kept looking at her.

“I don't suppose there's much need for the rest of you to stick around; Wesley and Angel have Faith in hand, and Buffy and I can go over whatever new details about the Mayor's ascension she may have let slip.” Giles had barely finished speaking when the rest of the Scoobies turned around and headed out, Xander and Cordelia both bitching about having come at all. Willow squeezed Buffy's arm and gave her a look that was probably supposed to be supportive, then followed.

Once they were alone, Giles took a seat next to Buffy and studied her carefully. She shifted her weight, ready to knock him unconscious at the first sign he showed of suspicion. 

“You know you'll always have my support, no matter what you choose to do regarding Faith.” There was still concern in his eyes, but also that unfamiliar softness. 

“What I choose to do?” She frowned, but he just nodded, misinterpreting her confusion.

“I can only imagine how difficult this experience must have been for you, Buffy. You were closer to Faith than any of us, and I know how hard you've worked to try and reach her. If you feel that she is too far gone now, that she is a, uh, “nutjob”, as Xander and Willow have been insisting, then I will respect your judgment on the matter. But I have witnessed how concerned you have been about her, and I will be right there with you, if you want me, if you want to give her another chance before Wesley manages to ship her back to England.”

“Another chance?” Buffy jumped to her feet and started pacing the library. “Why does everybody seem so convinced that she-, that I'm, so invested in how she's doing?” It turned her head, talking about Faith like she wasn't there. Buffy hadn't actually cared about her, had she? They'd had one wild night together, living life Faith's way, before she'd been scared straight and run back to her friends, eager to tattle and terrified of actually enjoying herself. “She killed a man. She's a murderer!”

“We both know that was a mistake. Like you said, it could have been you that stabbed him. These things are unfortunate but they happen from time to time. If Wesley hadn't been such an incredible berk, Angel might have had some success in explaining that to her.” He rose and attempted to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled sharply away. 

“But now,” he continued, “I fear that she's adopted that as her persona, dangerous and uncaring. I know from personal experience how tempting that can be, the desire to give up on guilt and remorse, to reject the call of destiny and avoid ever facing consequences. Convincing yourself that you don't care can feel incredibly freeing, for as long as you're able to continue deceiving yourself.”

“You?” She couldn't help the exclamation, filled with scorn and incredulity. Giles would feel guilty about spilling a cup of tea.

“Yes, well, perhaps 'the call of destiny' is a bit strong, but that's how it felt at the time, coming from a lineage of Watchers. I'm ashamed of how much of my past you've gotten to witness, Buffy, between Ethan's meddling and Eyghon trying to kill everyone who summoned it, but I see a lot of myself at that age in Faith. Not that I think she'd believe that for a moment.” He looked somewhat abashed with his confession, and removed his glasses to wipe them clean.

Eyghon sounded vaguely familiar, some kind of demon, maybe mentioned by her first Watcher...she shut down that memory before it went any further. Did Giles summon a demon when he was a kid? Did it kill people? The amount that she was learning about Buffy and her pals tonight was staggering, and she had a hard enough time with the thought that Giles had once been a teenager.

“Well, maybe she'd have understood that better if she'd had a Watcher of her own to tell her this stuff.” She wasn't entirely able to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

“I entirely agree. Ms. Post was the first in a series of disasters for her since she arrived here, and I hold myself responsible for a great deal of that.” Giles spoke with real pain behind his words. This was another side of him she'd never gotten to see, remorseful and suffering, and she liked it. This sharing thing was fun. 

“I've struggled to be the best Watcher I was able to be with you, Buffy, and God knows I've failed. I haven't been able to give you the support you deserve, and,” his voice caught with emotion, “I have betrayed your trust. Frankly I didn't think I was able to handle being responsible for another Slayer.”

“Yeah, well, no big.” She casually rolled her shoulders, and he gave her another curious look. She hastily corrected herself. “I just mean, that I forgive you for all those things. You're my Watcher and I care a lot about you.” It was sickeningly easy to inject her voice with syrupy sweetness.

“And that means the world to me.” He smiled softly at her. “But it doesn't change the fact that I failed Faith in my duty as her Watcher, even if it was supposed to be an interim position. I could have been more involved in her life, shown an interest, helped her find somewhere to live that wasn't that terrible motel...I was so caught up in worrying that I was failing you that I didn't even notice how much I was failing her.”

She had to admit that hearing Giles say all of this out loud felt pretty good, but it was also way too much to take in after the night she'd had, and she thought it might only take one more curious look from him to see the Faith behind Buffy's eyes

“Well, maybe you're right G, -iles, maybe she'd have turned out completely different. Or maybe not, who knows. But now, she's in a van headed for England and as long as Wesley can keep it together this time I think that's the safest place for her to be. She's had her chance.” She started walking towards the door.

“I suppose so,” he said sadly. “Where are you going? We still need to talk about what you learned from Faith about the Mayor.”

“I need to do a patrol, work of some off this 'being kidnapped and tortured' energy. She didn't say much, nothing urgent, but I'll go over what she said with Angel and check in with you later, okay?” She couldn't handle him staring quizzically at her again, and she left before she heard his response.


	6. Reflections

The vampire snarled as it advanced at a run, fangs bared. Buffy knocked it sideways with a high kick to the head, then spun to face the one that thought it was sneaking up behind her and began pummelling its chest with blows. In the dirt beneath her, two hands scrabbled up through the soil.

The adrenaline cleared her head, just as it always did, and she began sorting through all the things she had learned tonight. Giles had summoned a demon when he was a teenager? Angel had murdered Giles' girlfriend? Buffy had been defending Faith long after her friends had stopped? Xander thought she had some kind of feelings for her?

The first vamp recovered and charged again, and she grabbed the second one and spun in a circle, bowling the two together. It was an easy opening for a double staking, but she wasn't ready for it to be over yet. She tried to remind herself that she didn't care, that she'd never had any reason to care about what that crowd thought of her. Giles was crying himself to sleep about how much he'd failed her, when she'd rolled into town by herself, the leftovers of somebody else's problem. She didn't need someone to look after her, and like hell if it would ever be either of those old-fashioned English snooze factories anyway. She'd always taken care of herself, and she'd continue to do just that. Every time she thought she found somebody, she always ended up losing them.

Yet somehow, her justifications rang hollow inside. Something about Willow's venom hurt, even though she told herself she didn't care. The redhead had never been so candid about her hatred in Faith's presence. And Giles' concern and guilt, even if it was misplaced, still felt vaguely touching. She told herself that she'd never have moved in somewhere that he was paying for, like she suddenly owed him something, but then she'd moved into the apartment the Mayor had given her without any difficulty. 

The two vamps were back on their feet, circling her more warily now. The new arrival was still only halfway out of her own grave, and didn't seem to be in a hurry. Buffy went on the offensive, vaulting over a gravestone and catching the first vamp in the chest, pitching him back over another headstone. The second lunged and exchanged furious blows with her, swinging high and low as each of them parried and connected in turn. He was strong enough to get her motor going, but not enough to take her.

The two of them were stark contrasts to each other: Giles' sincerity and regret, wanting to help Faith long after the point that she'd abandoned his cause, against the Mayor's cheerfulness and veiled threats, valuing her for what she could do, not who she was. She liked the way the Mayor treated her. As she contemplated, she planted one foot on the vampire's chest and kicked hard, throwing herself into a backflip that landed behind the other vamp. Stake out, she drove it through his back before he could turn. Running through the cloud of dust, she parried a few more strikes from the remaining vamp before grabbing his wrist and flipping him to the ground. Dropping to her knees on top of him, she began to rain blows down. 

The Mayor was polite and considerate, more so than Giles had ever been to her, and he valued her strength. She was useful to him. What did Giles value, just the fact that she existed as a person? That hardly seemed meaningful. Just because he knew he could have done a better job welcoming her to Sunnydale didn't mean she was suddenly going to come running back to his team because he showed her his soft, cuddly side.

Of course, that left the question of when she was planning on running back to the Mayor's team. He wouldn't be thrilled that she let herself get taken in by Buffy and Angel, or that she let some more little details slip about the Ascension, or that she used his magical gadget when she promised she wouldn't...but surely having Buffy locked away on a plane to England, and his very own Slayer running around in her body, would be more than enough to even the score. She should check back in with him as soon as she could.

Except that now, she was Buffy Summers. A girl with a very different life here, and the ability to go anywhere she wanted, do anything she wanted, without worrying about any of the people that were out hunting Faith. 

Finished, she finally planted her stake in the vamp's chest. Looking around, she saw that the newly risen vamp had taken in the savage beating and was currently running the other way. Flipping her stake around, she threw it hard. It cartwheeled through the air for a distance that might have won her an Olympic medal before burying itself in the vampire's back. She spun around, trying desperately to dig the weapon out of her back before belatedly disintegrating. Standing, Buffy took in the empty graveyard. Probably no more vamps out in this part of town tonight. Satisfied, she checked how her body was doing, and couldn't help a grin. Of course Buffy would lie about how hungry and horny slaying made her. She needed some chicken wings and some hot, sweaty dancing, now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy walked up Revello Drive, still lost in her thoughts. She'd gotten about three blocks in the direction of the Bronze before realizing that her current outfit was in no way appropriate for the kind of action she was planning. Fortunately, Buffy's house wasn't far out of the way.

It sounded like B's last year or two had been more complicated than she had let on to Faith, but then she hadn't talked much about her past at all. Faith had taken it as just one more indication of the fact that she wasn't really part of the gang, but she tried to imagine explaining that the guy she was currently dating had tortured and murdered her friends, and attempted to end the world, and she couldn't really fault B for playing that one closer to the chest. She couldn't fault Xander either though, for suggesting that Buffy had really terrible taste in men. What did she actually see in Captain Cardboard?

Although that did also bring to mind his other comment tonight. What exactly had he meant when he said she had terrible judgment with people she had feelings for? Was he responding to something Buffy had told him, or was he just projecting his fantasy of two Slayers together? If B did have some kind of feelings, she was playing that one pretty close to the chest as well. Which would be typical. B was wound so tight about being such a good girl, trying so hard to keep her perfect little life with her mom and her boyfriend and her homework: one night of wild dancing had been all it took to have her running back to her Watcher and turn against Faith.

God, why did B care so much about keeping everything perfect? A couple of hours from her perspective and she could see things weren't nearly as neat as she wanted to pretend they were. Her friends were pissed with her, her boyfriend had murdered people she cared about, both of her Watchers were letdowns...what gave her the right to think she was so much better than her? If she could just have accepted that she and Faith weren't so different after all, things might have worked out quite differently between them.

Her train of thought was broken as she stopped outside Buffy's front door. This was the one true thing that separated them. Buffy's home. She'd visited several times before, but now, it was her home. She rested her hand on the doorknob and gently turned it, feeling strangely wrong coming through her house's front entrance and not sneaking in a back window. Still, it was late and Joyce would be asleep, and that was something she was familiar with, slipping her boots off and treading softly up the stairs to avoid waking her mom.

In Buffy's room, the mirror with Buffy's reflection stared quietly at her. It was her first time getting to stop and appreciate the body she was in, and it was a jarring sight. Gently, like approaching a wild animal, she moved towards the mirror, raising one arm, then the other, then sticking out her tongue. Everything she did, Buffy copied perfectly. Her head started to spin again. Up until now, she had been pretending to be Buffy, saying what she would say and doing what she would do, so that she could get away without a fuss. But this was not pretending. There was no trace of Faith in her reflection. 

Suddenly, she threw herself into a fighting stance, but even though it wasn't Buffy's natural one, she embodied it perfectly. She let anger and rage spill into her expression, then flipped herself the finger, then finally rolled her shoulders like she didn't care. Not gestures she had seen on Buffy before, but she did them all so naturally, she couldn't see them as completely Faith either. 

“Faith. I'm Faith. My name is Faith. Faaiithh. Faith Lehane. Buffy.” The first name, the one she had had all her life, felt strange in her mouth. There was something wrong about hearing it in Buffy's prim, restrained voice. 'Buffy' felt so much more natural. “My name is Buffy Summers. I'm the Slayer. Nice to meet you.”

Well, that was it, then. She hadn't just stolen Buffy's body, she really was becoming her. Faith was the lost, broken girl in the back of that van that nobody cared about. She was a murderer and a psychopath and she was going to rot away in a cell somewhere for a long time. Buffy had a new life, a better life, ahead of her. Here, or anywhere else she wanted to go. Starting fresh, without needing Giles, or the Mayor, or the Watcher's Council, looking out for her and telling her what to do. 

Still, before she did anything else, she had some itches she needed to scratch. Peeling out of her top and pants, she browsed through Buffy's wardrobe, unsurprised at how cute and fluffy so many things were, until she found something good. Black top, black pleather pants, simple yet effective. She turned back to the mirror, holding them up against herself, and her breath hitched. Staring back at her was a nearly naked Buffy, in only a pink lacy bra and...matching panties? 

Damn it, everything that girl did was so fucking adorable. And seeing her now, like this...seeing herself like this...as much as she hated the way Buffy had treated her, she couldn't deny this was something she had thought about since she'd first met her. Buffy had walked in on her in the middle of a kill, been the first thing she'd seen after driving the stake through that vamp's heart, when her pulse was still pounding and her other parts were throbbing for attention. This small, perky body, this long blonde hair, this slight perpetual pout on her lips. 

Buffy's disinterest had been immediately obvious, uncomfortable even talking about sex and reluctant to let Faith into her world at all. She'd had years with all of her friends, and given how little she had mentioned that past summer in the slaying stories she did eventually share, it sounded like it had been a quiet few months. They'd had all that time to spend together, and still, the moment Faith showed up B had shunned her like she was trying to steal people B had only just met.

But then they'd also gone patrolling together, and she'd gotten to see the other side of B, the side she tried to hide from all of her friends, the wild animal with wild animal instincts that she kept caged so much of the time. The exhilaration in her eyes when she scored a kill, the near whimpering frustration when one got away. The smell of her, the feel of her, bodies working together in perfect sync. The outfit she was going to wear lay forgotten on the floor as she ran her hands over her new body, getting to really feel it for the first time. It felt good.

Some part of her knew that this was probably wrong, as she sank back into her bed and let her fingers roam, still transfixed on her image in the mirror, but it was the same part of her that told her that torturing Buffy was wrong, that working for the Mayor was wrong, that stabbing Allan Finch through the heart with a stake was wrong. A part she had a great deal of practice ignoring. After a minute, her fingers paused as she struggled to shake that thought out of her head.

Faith had a great deal of practice ignoring it. Buffy was a good girl who never broke the rules or made anyone disappointed in her. If she started thinking the same way Faith had, she'd end up back to being her in no time flat. Back in the Mayor's office, working with him to kill another of the Scoobies, helping him destroy the whole town. Why did that thought suddenly bother her? She reached a hand up and cupped her breast, squeezing as she willed her brain to stop thinking and give into the sensations.

It didn't work. Buffy's body might get just as worked up after a kill as Faith's, but it wasn't nearly so responsive. For the first time in her life, this actually felt like work, and it was infuriating. Maybe this was why B was wound so tight. Her body didn't kick in and take over the way she was used to, and she was still stuck in her head.

When she'd been Faith, she hadn't had a choice. She had killed a man. She was evil. The Watcher's council didn't want her any more, and the only person who would take her in wanted to turn into a demon. But Buffy hadn't done any of those things. She didn't think she could hang around and pretend to be her and listen to her friends talk about how awful she was like she wasn't there, or risk slipping and being found out. But she wasn't convinced that she wanted to entirely throw away her new chance by going straight back to being Faith. That wasn't who she was any more.

She focused on her body again with renewed effort, and after a few minutes finally began to feel like she was getting somewhere, before it started to slip away again. Letting out a little scream of frustration she tore herself off the bed, threw on the clothes on the floor, and grabbed one of Buffy's bags. Tossing it on the bed, she started grabbing anything out of the closet that looked remotely bearable and stuffing it in. The chest in the corner contained Buffy's weapons, and she added a few stakes and crosses for good measure. There was no point in hanging around this town any longer. All that was left for her here were confusing echoes of past lives, hers and somebody else's. Better to just grab the first bus out of here and head somewhere new to start over, somewhere that nobody had any expectations of her.

From behind her came a soft knock at the door, then before she could answer it opened gently to reveal a freshly woken Joyce, still in her nightgown, concern on her face. “Honey, are you alright? I thought I heard a scream, is there some creature in here,” and then she stopped, confusion turning to horror as she saw the bag of clothes on Buffy's bed. “You're running away? Again!?”


	7. Becoming

“Joyce!” Buffy was too startled to even remember to call her mom. Buffy's instincts kicked in, panicking, wanting to hide everything from her and pretend that everything was alright. But even that familiar feeling was different, softer and more innocent, like her biggest worry was getting grounded and not smacked across the face. Only belatedly did she register what Joyce had said, and it confused her. “Again?”

“Yes, Buffy, again. What, did you think I'd forget that my only daughter vanished off the face of the earth for three months while everyone here was worried sick about you, not knowing where you were or if you were dead? Were you even going to leave me a note this time?” Joyce was lit up with anger, but it was almost too reserved to be recognized. She looked like she wanted to scold Buffy and hug her, not scream at her and hit her. Even so, Buffy took an instinctive step backwards, bracing herself slightly against the violence that only part of her knew was not coming. Her guarded stance stopped Joyce's tirade cold.

“Buffy? Are you alright? Tell me what's happened. Please, don't shut me out again.” There was a moments silence that passed between them as Buffy tried to process what was happening. Joyce clearly interpreted it as reluctance. “I understand why you did what you had to do last summer. It took me a lot of time and three different support groups, but I understand. I can't imagine what you had to go through, to be able to...you know...kill Angel. But whatever you're dealing with now, maybe I don't 'get it', but I just need you to talk to me. You have so many people in your life who care about you, and can help you if you let them in.” 

Buffy's head swam, not able to take in anything that was happening. B had run away from home? She shoved down on the emotions that were spiralling up around her, but it didn't work the way it used to, and she could feel them starting to overwhelm her. Joyce took another tentative step towards her, deep concern on her face and in her voice.

“Buffy, sweetie? I love you. You know I'm here for you, no matter what you're going through.”

That was the final straw, she couldn't handle being here another second. Brushing past Joyce she took off at a run, down the stairs and out into the cool night air, ignoring the cries from behind her. She ran through the streets without thought, not knowing or caring where her body was taking her. It felt good to run. For several blocks, all she did was run, Slayer stamina letting her cross a good portion of town before she slowed to catch her breath. She couldn't quite focus on the path she was following or why it brought her a sense of calm, but it did, and she didn't question it. Her mind started to buzz again with questions and answers, and puzzle pieces from this evening began to settle into place.

Angel hadn't just gone bad, like they had vaguely summarized for her, unwilling to answer any of her questions for specifics. He had murdered Giles' girlfriend, tortured Giles, tried to end the world...and Buffy had killed him. How he was back with his soul again, she wasn't sure, but that was clearly a more recent development. B had spent the whole summer believing him dead, and like Faith, had taken off. Her own Kakistos, a big bad vamp who had taken some of the most important people from her and shaken her so bad she skipped town. And three months, Joyce had said. That was the whole summer. Buffy could only have been back a week or two before Faith had rolled into town.

It didn't seem quite so surprising that B had been so protective of her friends and family when she showed up. It still hurt that nobody had told her any of this, but...she could understand it. Her and B really _weren't_ that different from each other. It sounded stupid now that she was thinking about it, but she'd never really imagined Buffy getting scared before. Not the way she had been, when Kakistos found her, when he found her Watcher-

She refused to think any more about that. If the way Buffy had acted made sense to her, if B's stuck up act wasn't arrogance, but fear: being afraid of losing her friends again, afraid of losing control again...if that made sense to her, she might just not hate Buffy for it.  
But she had to hate B. She had to. She tried to kill her friends. She thought she'd taken Angel from her. She'd been ready to torture her. How could she have done those things to someone she didn't hate, someone who didn't deserve it? She could almost feel Alan Finch's blood on her hands again. It didn't matter how she tried to run from it, how she tried to hide, she was always going to be Faith, the murderer, the screw up, the psycho. 

She snapped out of her reverie as her feet came to a halt, and she realized she hadn't been paying any attention to where she was going. Her body had been on autopilot, headed to the place Buffy always knew would be her sanctuary when everything else in her life was falling apart. She looked up and swore as she recognized the distinct architecture of Angel's mansion. 

The Faith in her told her to run, to turn and flee and never stop until she was in a different State. But another part of her felt at peace here. She knew there was comfort and sanctuary from the world inside, even if it wasn't really for her. It was while she was still standing at the top of the stairs, unwilling to go any further and unable to tear herself away, that she heard his voice.

“Buffy.”

Angel stepped out through the pane glass doors and into the little courtyard below her, his expression nervous and puppy-dog like. He inspired a dizzying array of emotions in her: frustration and anger that he had played her like a fool, memories of the intimate moment they had almost had, vague sense memories of comfort in his arms, disdain for his attempt to convert her by chaining her to his wall, and a faint sense of unease at actions she had no recollection of.

“Angel.” She was rapidly realizing that she had no idea what her plan was any more, but she didn't intend for it to end with her being discovered by him. “You just lurking there waiting for me?”

“I smelled you.” He stared intensely, then quickly lowered his gaze. 

“Of course you did.” She took a few cautious steps down the stairs. He picked up on her nervousness immediately. 

“How you doing?” 

“Just peachy.” She shrugged before she could help herself. “Never better, ya know?”

“It's okay.” He moved to the foot of the stairs and looked up, clearly wanting to embrace her but not coming any closer. “You were a real soldier tonight, Buffy. I know how hard this was for you.”

She couldn't entirely stifle her laugh. “I really doubt that.” She reached the bottom of the steps and walked around him, not able to keep looking him in his deep, searching eyes. “But hey, it worked, Faith's out of the picture, we got what we wanted, right?”

“I never wanted it to go that far.”

“I know. It was all an act. I just...I love you so much, Angel. It was hard to watch you with her like that.” She stepped inside the mansion and kept the sweet sincerity in her voice as much as she could.

“If there's anything I can do to make it better.” He lingered in the doorway, not coming too close but never taking his eyes off of her. “I should never have suggested this plan in the first place. It was a mistake.”

“Well, hey. I forgive you. We all make mistakes.” She turned back to him, still standing in the doorway, still full of sadness and brooding intensity. “It's what we learn from making mistakes that matters, right?” She smiled up at him. His face shifted into something that looked very much like disappointment.

“You're right. What's important is that we learn from them.” His brow furrowed as he looked at her. “Faith.”


	8. Sanctuary

“What?” Time felt like it slowed around her again. This wasn't fair! She'd just been here, standing in this spot while he whipped the rug out from under her. Not again. Not with this.

Angel pulled an object out of his pocket, the crushed remains of the device she'd used to switch their bodies. “Recognize this?” He kept his distance from her, but he remained between her and the exits.

“You know what that thing is?” she asked incredulously.

“Not really. But I saw you use it, so I knew it couldn't be good.” He shrugged and slipped it back into his jacket. “I did a little reading once everyone left, didn't find much, just a vague reference to magic of shifting or altering. But it doesn't take a genius to see that you're not her.”

“That's it? You think that I'm not Buffy because of one vague reference and a feeling?” She tried her best to sound indignant and not enraged.

“Well, that, and the fact that this plan was Buffy's idea, not mine. She'd know that.” He smiled a fraction. “You're really not the actor you think you are, Faith.”

“Stop saying that! That's not my name! I'm Buffy! I'm Buffy Summers, and Faith is locked away where she deserves to be, where she can't hurt anyone else, and she's not me.” She stepped back, horrified, unsure just how much she believed the words.

“She is you. But that doesn't have to be all you are. There's more to your life than one mistake. It doesn't have to define who you are.”

“One mistake? I killed a man, Angel. I scrubbed his blood off my hands and I threw his body in the river, and I blamed Buffy. I almost killed her! I almost killed you, too. That's not just one mistake. That's too much to take back.” She pulled away as he came closer, her muscles coiled tight like a spring about to explode.

“You don't get to take it back, but you can decide what happens next. It doesn't make you a monster, unless you choose to be one.” 

“That's funny, you telling me about being a monster. I guess that's something you'd know about, isn't it, with all the people you've murdered. You really are an expect on good and evil.” Her tone was unmistakably her own, cocky and angry and full of bitterness. 

"That's right, Faith, I'm a murderer. I've tortured and killed more people than you've ever met. You think you've got the bad girl thing going for you? They've written history books about me being the Scourge of Europe." His tone was grim and ferocious in its intensity. "You killed one man in an accident, and you think you're beyond forgiveness because you dumped the body? I murdered the only woman Giles ever loved, and I left her body for him to find in his bed. I remember every rose petal I laid out on his staircase, the champagne, the opera music, the love note. I broke his heart into a million pieces and I revelled in the artistry of it, and then because that wasn't enough, I kidnapped him and tortured him for hours."

She wanted to hate him, to tell him how wrong he was, that she was the bad guy here and he was just Buffy's boytoy. She did not want to admit that the image he conjured with that description seemed worse than anything she or the Mayor had even talked about doing.

"And Faith? You thought that was Angelus in that room with you? Angelus would have been disgusted with your idea of torture. When I had Giles at my mercy, I used a chainsaw."

"Well, sounds like I've got a thing or two to learn from you, big guy. What do you say, want to give me some lessons? I've always had a thing for power tools." She pressed herself into him, a sultry look in her eyes as her hands roamed over him. Frustratingly, he laughed.

"You want to think you're beyond redemption because that's the easy way out. Poor Faith, too mistreated and crazy to ever be anything besides a killer. But you're not that bad, Faith. Even Giles is responsible for more deaths than you."

"Oh yeah? You think that'll still be true when I'm helping the Mayor turn this whole town into chunks?"

"You won't be beyond redemption. You have a soul, Faith. You'll always be able to make the decisions I couldn't." She slammed her fist into his face.

Angel stumbled back, his expression mild annoyance. She came at him again and again, holding none of her Slayer strength back. He fell to the ground and she kicked him across the room, bouncing him off the hard concrete walls. He blocked her next flurry of attacks: lunges, high kicks and punches, dodging around her until she connected again and threw him into the mantelpiece. He winced, then, but otherwise offered no response as he concentrated on avoiding her blows.

"Shut up!" she screamed at him anyway, still advancing. "Shut up and fight me, you coward!"

"You'll never be beyond redemption, Faith. Never." He backed away further, ducking and weaving but not striking back.  
Fury coursed through her, raw and unchecked. Angel had no right to be talking about these things like he had any idea what it was like to be her. He hadn't chosen to stop being a vampire, he'd just woken up one day with a massive guilt complex and no personality. People might have hated him for it, but they didn't hold him responsible for Angelus' actions or he'd be dust by now. That, and Buffy loved him. 

"I'm a monster! I'm evil! Just because you stopped wanting to kill people doesn't mean I do. I like it!" She was fighting wild and frantically, without technique.

Suddenly, Angel went on the offensive, in full game face, dazing her with a violent headbutt, knocking the wind out of her gut, sweeping her legs from beneath her, and wrapping her in the vampire's death grip, arms around her and fangs to bare neck. "You think I just stopped wanting to kill people, Faith? You really are an idiot. There's not an hour goes by I don't think about how good humans taste." He tightened his grip on her throat. "I spent a hundred years hiding from humanity because I couldn't stand being around the temptation. Every minute I spend with Buffy is agony. You think I don't know how incredible Slayer blood would be to drink?"

"Then just do it," she managed around his grip on her neck, "you're still so tortured and evil? Prove it. Drink deep."

"No, Faith. Because that's the easy way out. For both of us. And making amends isn't easy or quick and it never stops hurting, but it's possible." He released her and stepped away, letting his demon face recede. "You really want to die, you do it yourself, because I'm not going to make it easy on you."  
She felt the strength threatening to leave her limbs, and she hated him for it. She wanted to hit him and keep hitting him until he was dust just from the pounding, but he wouldn't even fight her. Everything was frightening and painful and the Faith in her wanted to hurt him and make him bleed until the fear and the pain went away, but the Buffy in her just wanted to curl up and cry. And she wasn't Faith any more.

Her knees buckled and he caught her before she hit the ground. She raised an arm to push him away and broke into wracking sobs before she could touch him. Her arm ended up around his neck and he pulled her in tight as she wept into him.  
They stayed like that long enough that she lost track of it. There was something oddly comforting about being held by someone with no pulse, no breathing, no temperature, like if she kept her eyes closed she could forget he was there. She had no memory of when she had last cried like that.  
Eventually, she pulled away from him, distantly horrified by how soaked his shirt was with her tears. She tried to move further away, but her legs refused to cooperate, and she stayed kneeling beside him, struggling for breath.

"I can't...Angel...I can't..." Her sobs threatened to overwhelm her again.

"Yes you can. It's hard and it hurts and it never gets easy but you can, Faith." He held her shoulder gently. 

She snorted, a snotty, horribly unflattering sound. "Great pep talk."

He gave a weak smile. "You don't like bullshit, Faith. I want to be honest with you." He seemed to be using her name pointedly, to remind himself that it wasn't actually Buffy weeping in front of him. She imagined his instincts were trying to tell him to respond very differently to her.

"I can't ever be a person someone would love."

He took a long look at her, dark eyes hinting at some hidden insight. “I used to think the same thing.”

She didn't have a response for that. They stayed that way a while longer, until finally she stirred, and he helped her to her feet. “Now, lets get Buffy back before Wesley manages to do something truly stupid.”


End file.
